Salted Lacerations
by SendEridiumForUncensored
Summary: (This series follows my OC, Kashmere Hexquil, along with my friends' Borderlands OCs.) A month or so after Handsome Jack's death, a pretty trustworthy bandit/con-artist is thrown into a drama between a town notorious for being a hub for bandit activity, and a powerful, merciless drag queen warlord. (Stories are cut into smaller parts. Suggestions welcome.)
1. (1)It's Always Sunny On Pandora (part 1)

(AN: I'd like to thank Leah, Gabriel, Kane, Ares, and the rest of my countless, shitposting friends for helping edit this series and for giving me the utmost support. You guys are lit.)

 **SALTED LACERATIONS**

 **It's Always Sunny On Pandora(pt.1)**

Sun rays distorted the vast plateaus and canyons in the distance. Orange ripples of dirt blew over the el-train tracks where a bandit technical sat parked a few meters away.

Kashmere stood alongside the bandit technical, accompanied by two other bandits. One stood alongside him, his red fabric mask tied around his face and his bare hand pressed against the scorching metal hood of the technical.

"C'mon, Clement! Ten seconds more an' you'll beat your record." Kashmere encouraged.

Clement groaned with pain then finally jerked his hand off the technical with a breath of relief. Kashmere's eyebrows creased with disappointment, "C'mon dude, you had it..."

Clement shot him a glare as he rubbed his burned palm, "It's hot as shit, Kash! You try it."

"Me?" Kashmere widened his eyes and gestured to himself, "No, man. I-I can't. I'll lose instantly. You're much better at this game than I am."

"You're scared of getting your hand burned? I thought you were just scared of spiders." Clement fixed his glove back onto his hand.

"I'm not _scared_ of either. I'm more of uh...rationally concerned." Kashmere pulled his fingerless glove from his hand and slapped it down onto the hood of the technical. He hovered his hand above the hood of the technical when a snicker escaped Clement, "There's a spider on your vest."

Kashmere yelped and jumped back, "Get it off!" He demanded as his frantic eyes searched himself. Clement's laughter threw him off, "You're so stupid, Kash!"

Kashmere glared back at him, then fixed his vest back into place, "Don't even joke about that. Honestly, I-I just wanna shoot you now." Kashmere put his hand back over the hood of the technical and prepared himself.

The second bandit sitting to the side of the technical let out a mocking chuckle, bringing the binoculars away from the red lenses of his mask, "You guys are fricken idiots."

"Why not take a break from watching for the train and come watch Kash fight imaginary spiders?" Clement suggested, his fingers still rubbing the pain from his gloved palm.

Kashmere snickered at Clement's suggestion, "Yeah, exploit my fear for your own sick entertainment."

Tim dropped his binoculars, letting them hang from his neck as he stood and faced the other two, "I just wanna be ready for when the train _does_ come. I mean, we're racing against Krushnor. How mad's he gonna git when he finds out we ripped off his idear of robbing a train?"

Kashmere lifted his hand away from the hood to fix his snapback into place, "He wouldn't even know. I told you; by the time he derails the train, we'll have the loot. He'll think there wasn't anything on it. We're good. This doesn't have any risk to it—except for maybe ending up under the train, but that'd be your fault. So don't do that."

Tim crossed his arms as he watched Kashmere place his hand back over the technical's hood, "You're the one who dragged us out here. I'm surprised you ain't more into this."

Kashmere's eyes widened, "Oh my God, you're right." He grabbed his glove off the technical and pulled it on, "I'm sorry, Clemmy. This is serious business. I cant be fooling around now." He gave Clement a pat on his shoulder before walking towards the train track.

"Don't call me that." Clement demanded, "That's really—really weird."

Kashmere stepped up to the train track before turning on his heels to face the other two bandits, "So, we set on what we're gonna do, right?" He asked, clasping his hands together, "Clement drives alongside the train while me an' Tim hop on, bully the passengers into giving us their money, then hop off."

Tim nodded, "I like it."

"This seems too simple." Clement crossed his arms, "What're you gonna do if there's loader bots on the train? Or turrets, or if the passengers are ex-Hyperion soldiers or something?"

"I'm sure me an' Tim can handle it. We're pretty uh...skillful guys." Kashmere glanced at Tim.

"I'm skillful in more than one way, actually." Tim raised his chin with pride. Kashmere's green eyes stared back at Tim, looking him up and down with an awkward gaze, "Yeah, I bet you are."

"Yeah! I am!" Tim glanced to his side at Clement, "Why would you ever underestimate me? I'm basically a Vault Hunter!"

"I never said you weren't." Clement stated with a glance at Tim.

Tim raised an accusing finger in front of Clement's face, "You were thinking it, dick."

Kashmere stood with his arms crossed, watching the other two with a smirk of amusement plastered on his face.

Tim's gaze turned from Clement to Kashmere, "What're you laughing about, skaglick?"

Kashmere opened his mouth to respond when he was interrupted by Clement pointing down the track with his chin, "There's the train."

Tim and Kashmere both snapped their heads down the track, seeing the slick, Hyperion-model locomotive rushing towards them. Both Tim and Kashmere let out a scream of surprise before the three of them scrambled for the technical. Clement hoisted himself into the driver's seat as the other two climbed over the hood and positioned themselves in the back, Tim on the turret and Kashmere in the technical's bed.

Kashmere moved his mask from the side of his head to his face before grabbing a duffel back from the metal floor and strapping it to his shoulder. The technical's tires spun in the sand for a short moment before the car burst into full speed, keeping align with the train track. The three of them braced themselves as the train sped past and a loud swoosh clogged their ears.

Kashmere turned to Tim who was aligning the turret with the train, "Any day now, shit stain!"

"I'm on it!" Tim shouted back over the sound of the train. He pressed down on the trigger and the technical buckled to the left as a sawblade with a wire wielded to its top lodged itself into the train's side. The technical's tires strained against the speed of the train until finally the technical was spun around, being dragged by the turret. Kashmere and Tim gripped hold of the railings, worried croaks escaping their mouths.

Clement looked over his shoulder at the two, "We're uh—kinda being dragged backwards, guys!"

Tim growled under his breath as Kashmere scanned the train in thought, "Nice job, Clement! Want a gold star for figuring that out?" Tim spat at Clement.

"Was just saying..." Clement answered, turning forward, "But if you got any gold star stickers, I'll take them."

Kashmere shot to his feet, hoisting himself up over the turret and onto the hood of the technical, "Get on the train, Tim! I got an idea."

Tim cocked his head at Kashmere for a short moment before letting go of the turret and clasping his hands onto the wire. Kashmere held onto the railing of the cockpit, easing himself down towards the technical's winch.

Clement stared at Kashmere with a confused look, "What're you doing?"

Kashmere grasped onto the hook of the winch and pulled it up, "Turning the car around, duh!" He lapped the wire around his waist and hooked it at the front, "The sawblade's not gonna last anyway."

Tim hoisted himself onto the train, then turned and reached an arm out to help Kashmere up from the wire. With Tim's help, Kashmere pulled himself up onto the roof of the train and unhooked the wire from his waist. He looped it around the railing outlining the train's roof, then kicked the sawblade from the train's side. The wheels screeched as the technical was turned forwards again.

A smile spread underneath Kashmere's mask and he brushed his hands off, "See? I'm brilliant!" His sentence was cut short by the train shuddering, throwing off his balance and making him scramble for the railing. He looked back to the technical where Clement was holding a thumbs up out from the window. Kashmere returned the gesture, then turned his focus back on-task.

After adjusting the duffel bag on his shoulder, Kashmere grabbed hold of his hat before the speed of the train blew it off. With their hands on the railings, Tim and Kashmere made their way towards the edge of the boxcar, struggling against the hot winds wailing against them.

Kashmere crouched at the edge of the boxcar, staring down at the thin metal catwalk underneath. He gritted at the dirt blurring from the speed below the train.

"Well?" Tim asked, standing above Kashmere with his hand set on the railing, "Any day now, shit stain."

Kashmere glanced over his shoulder, scorning at Tim, "I'll drop-kick you off this train, dick breath." He eased himself down, the catwalk rattling underneath his boots as he landed. Tim followed behind as Kashmere hopped over to the catwalk of the other boxcar. Kashmere wrapped his hand around the latch of the door, pulling it out a little from the door frame when the thought of loader bots waiting at the other side crept into his mind.

He turned to Tim, "Actually, I think it'd be better if you went first." He gestured at the door and stepped out of the way.

Tim's head tilted, "Why?" He demanded.

Kashmere pulled his pistol from the holster, readying it as he began speaking, "Well, I just thought that since you're obviously the scarier of us two. What—with your red eyes an' cool SMG an' stuff—they'll be begging for us to take their money an' leave them alone." He traced his finger up and down the barrel of his pistol, then looked up at Tim, "I could be like your goofy, young, naive sidekick. You'll be the cool guy. The one in charge."

Tim nodded with approval, "I like it! Perfect plan." He swung his SMG off his shoulder then brought his boot up and kicked open the door. It banged against the wall of the passenger boxcar, startling the Hyperion workers sitting at the cushioned benches inside. Tim raised his gun and walked in, Kashmere followed as soon as he decided it was safe.

"Hand over your money!" Tim demanded, his voice hushing the panicked cries of the workers.

Kashmere stepped up beside him, his pistol rested down at his side, "You're supposed to say something cooler than that, you fricken idiot."

Tim glanced back at him, "Shut up, skaglick."

Kashmere's attention turned to the Hyperion passengers as one spoke up, his hands raised and his dark eyebrows creased with worry, "W-we don't have anything!"

Kashmere lowered his pistol for a short moment as his eyes scanned the workers; all neatly groomed, unscathed, and in Hyperion-issued office suits. He chewed his lip before Tim interrupted his thoughts.

"Really?" Tim began, "A bunch of Hyperion skaglicks leaving Pandora after Jack died, and you telling us you got nothing?"

Kashmere took a few steps forward and Tim followed behind, making the Hyperion workers scoot towards the windows with nervousness, "No family heirlooms? No jewelry? Not even just money for the trip?" Kashmere asked.

Another passenger raised his hand, "I uh...have trading cards." He dug into his pocket, pulling out a deck of cards and staring down at them with sullen eyes. Kashmere shrugged, "Okay whatever—We'll take them." He stepped up to the passenger. The Hyperion passenger stared at him with watery eyes as he dropped the cards into the duffel bag, "Please...have mercy."

Kashmere adjusted his grip on the bag, then turned to the rest of the passengers as Tim had his gun trained towards them.

The passengers pulled out the little bit of cash and expensive trinkets they had, handing it over as Kashmere walked down the boxcar. He stopped at the far side where a woman sat pulling cash from her wallet. His eyes moved to her earrings, gold in color and decorated with swirled designs. He brought one hand up to them, holding them up with his finger, "Oh! Where'd you get these?"

She pulled herself away from him with a scorn on her face, "My husband bought them." She answered, denying eye contact.

"Is that real gold?" Kashmere asked, leaning in for a better look.

"No." She gave a quick, shaky response.

Kashmere stood straight again, then presented the duffel bag to her, "Give them to me anyway, 'cause they're really nice. I could give them to a girl or something, or to myself."

She gave him a glare, then sighed with hesitation before pulling the earrings from her ears and dropping them into the bag.

Kashmere smiled at her from under his mask, "Thank you so much. It's hard to find people as generous as you these days." He zipped the duffel bag closed, then slung it over his shoulder and made his way back to Tim, "That's it! We're done. Thank you all for being so patient with us. I _swear_ your donations will be put to good use."

Tim was about to turn and head out with Kashmere when his gaze caught onto the Hyperion woman at the far end. She lunged towards the wall, her eyes set on an emergency button.

"Hey!" Tim shouted, but before she could react he raised his SMG and pressed the trigger. The passengers let out cries of panic as gunfire erupted through the boxcar and bullets tore through the woman's chest. Her head smacked against the wall before she landed on the floor, blood soaking into the grey of her dress.

Kashmere stared at Tim in disbelief, "Jesus, Tim! What's your problem?"

Tim turned his head over his shoulder at Kashmere, "What'd you mean? She was gonna call for help!"

Kashmere's eyes darted at the panicked faces of the passengers. He took in a breath, "When Krushnor derails the train and tries to rob these idiots, an' he sees one of them is dead on the floor already, do you think he's gonna believe they just didn't have anything on them? 'Cause I think he'd suspect the three shit-for-brains who flunked outta his gang probably had something to do with it."

Tim lowered his SMG, "What was I gonna do, let her call loader bots on us?"

Kashmere thought for a moment, "Yeah, you got me there."

He put one hand on the strap of the duffel bag and was about to step out when the woman at the far end raised her head. She looked up at the emergency button, tilting her head and gritting with pain as she raised her hand to press it. Her hand slapped against it and a loud siren blasted through the train, echoing through Kashmere's and Clement's eardrums and sending them into a panic.

The two scurried up to the roof of the boxcar, the ladder underneath rattled with their footsteps. Tim shoved past Kashmere, hurrying to get himself over the railing to jump for the technical.

Kashmere's gaze turned towards the front of the train. The tracks lifted from the cliff's drop off and stretched to the other side of the canyon. Kashmere grabbed onto Tim's shoulder and pulled him back as he realized there wasn't enough time for them to jump off before the train slid off the edge of the cliff. Tim scowled as Kashmere undid the wire, letting it whizz back to the technical's wench and stopping the car from being dragged over the cliff. Clement slammed the brakes, turning the technical and spinning it to a stop just at the cliff's edge.

Tim staggered to his feet, gripping the railing for support. He let out an agitated groan, "Nice going, skaglick. Our ride's gone now."

Kashmere leaned over the edge, staring down at the drop below to the bottom of the canyon, "Oh I think it would've been gone anyway."

Kashmere was interrupted by the boxcar door below them bursting from its hinges and falling down into the canyon. The two bandits turned their head towards the end of the train at a loaderbot hoisting itself up from between two boxcars. Tim raised his SMG and Kashmere pulled his pistol from his holster as the loaderbot stood straight, a machine gun bolted into one of its hands.

"Removing bandits-" It's monotone voice was put to a halt by the bandits' bullets. Tim's SMG rounds punctured small holes into its armour and Kashmere's pistol tore through the wiring at its limbs. The loaderbot staggered a few steps backwards, sparks flying from the bullet holes and oil pooling down underneath it.

"Ow." It said before falling backwards off the train. Kashmere and Tim looked over the railing as the loader bot dropped to the canyon below.

"Hell, that's it?" Tim asked, "That's easy."

Kashmere opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by three more loader bots coming from the front of the train.

Kashmere let out a nervous chuckle, "I'm not taking on three of those, bye." He told Tim before taking off towards the other end of the boxcar.

"Kash!" Tim called back, but Kashmere was already beginning to climb down between the boxcars.

The loader bots stepped forward, positioning themselves so each one had a clear shot of the two bandits, "Target death imminent." One said before the three of them let their bullets fly towards the bandits.

Both Tim and Kashmere cried out as the bullets deflected off their shields. Tim retaliated with his SMG as he hurried backwards towards Kashmere who was ducking into the next boxcar. Kashmere shut the boxcar door behind him and leaned against a stack of Hyperion crates strapped to the floor. His breathing was rapid and blood pulsed in his ears. He glanced at the boxcar door for a short moment before turning to the crates and tugging against the straps. Pulling a knife from the straps of his boot, he cut the crates free and began moving them towards the door.

The boxcar door opening caught him off-guard and he flinched, turning his head to see Tim scrambling in with a panic. Tim shut the door behind him before the loader bots could follow.

"The Hell's wrong with you?" Tim shouted.

Kashmere ignored his question and pushed Tim out of the way as he dragged the stack of crates towards the door, "Hey Tim, do me a real solid and go block the other door, 'aight?"

Tim let out a groan of agitation as he walked over to the other side of the boxcar. Once he finished blocking the door, he turned to see Kashmere on the floor shoving dollar bills into his hat with the duffel bag unzipped wide on the floor.

"What're you doing?" Tim questioned, adjusting his grip on his SMG.

"Your mom." Kashmere answered, keeping his gaze trained on the money.

Tim stepped to Kashmere, pressing the end of his SMG underneath Kashmere's chin and forcing him to his feet. Kashmere's hands came up in surrender.

"Don't be a smartass," Tim began, "Why're you putting the loot in your hat?"

"Geeze, Tim! What's wrong with you?" Kashmere demanded, "I'm splitting the loot so if one of us gets shot, not all of it's lost. Put the gun down! Killing me puts all the pressure on you!"

Tim pushed the SMG further under Kashmere's chin, pressing into his skin and making him raise his head with discomfort, "You tried to get me killed by the loader bots back there so you and Clement can get the loot to yourselves!"

Kashmere's eyebrows furled with denial. Lowering his hands, he took a step back, "No—no not at all, actually." He attempted to push the SMG away with one hand but Tim swatted his hand away and trained the SMG back onto him. Kashmere gave a nervous chuckle and continued, "I apologize sincerely for ditching you with the loader bots. I wasn't intending to do that."

"Stop using big words, asshole!" Tim shouted back above the sound of the loader bots banging against the door, "It don't matter now 'cause I beat you at your own game! I'm taking the loot and you're dying, you lying, cheating asshole!"

Tim sent the butt of his SMG slamming against Kashmere's temple, knocking him off his feet. Dazed, Kashmere struggled to get up when Tim's boot smashed down on the shield latched to his hip. A shudder of blue waved through Kashmere's body as his shield shattered underneath Tim's heel. Kashmere whipped his pistol from his holster and rolled to the side just as the SMG's bullets ripped through the air where he just was laying. Chest beating, Kashmere scrambled to his feet. He brought the pistol to Tim and pulled the trigger. Tim let out a cry and dropped his SMG as the bullet lodged itself deep in his abdomen. Tim clenched his stomach, falling to his knees with a heavy, pained breath.

Kashmere lowered his arm, "You scared the shit outta me!" His words barely forming under his rapid breathing. He looked down at the pistol, "The bullets go through shields. Pretty cheap, I know, but fricken awesome."

As Kashmere's adrenaline drained from his blood, a searing pain jolted through his arm making him clench his shoulder with one hand. He looked down at his shoulder, noticing the blood soaking through his shirt and vest and trickling between his fingers. He pulled his hand away with disbelief, staring down at the heavy, deep crimson blood smeared over his hand.

"Shit..." He mumbled to himself, suddenly overcome with a sensation of lightheadedness. He focused back on Tim who was struggling back to his feet. Kashmere's heart jumped in a state of panic and he raised his pistol again, sending four more bullets towards Tim's head and torso. Tim let out cry in pain before falling backwards onto the floor, streaks of blood pooling to one side of the boxcar as the train sped up.

"Geeze, that's a mess." Kashmere's nose crinkled with disgust as he stared at Tim's body.

His sentence was brought short by the sound of loader bots banging against the doors. Kashmere hurried to the money spread across the boxcar. He grabbed his cap off the floor and picked the cash up from around it. Setting the cap on his head, Kashmere made sure no money was sticking from under it and the rim was at his preferred angle.

Cradling his shoulder, Kashmere knelt beside Tim and pulled the shield from Tim's side. The shield beeped and a wave of blue flashed over his body as he snapped the shield on his hip and scrambled towards the side door of the boxcar. He looked back at Tim and the duffel bag filled with worthless trinket and jewelry too hard to wear under his hat before undoing the latch on the side door. Opening it just enough to fit himself through, he prepared himself to jump. His gaze set on a pit stop at the side of a road the train was heading towards just a few meters from the track. Grasping his hat, Kashmere let go of the latch and made a jump for it...


	2. (1)It's Always Sunny On Pandora (part2)

**SALTED LACERATIONS**

 **It's Always Sunny On Pandora (part 2)**

Pain shot up Kashmere's feet as he hit the ground and lurched forward, tumbling through the dirt for a short moment until finally coming to a halt on his stomach.

Air brushed the tail of his vest up as the train sped past him. Hand still resting on his cap, he turned his head to the train's tail already heading towards the distant mountains. With a groan, Kashmere sat up and once again fixed his hat into place. His gaze turned to his wounded shoulder. Blood oozed from the bullet wound, soaking into his clothes and discolouring the brown of his vest.

Kashmere let out a sigh, "You suck, Tim." He spat out before struggling to his feet.

The pitstop stood a few meters away, set alongside a paved road, littered with cracks and faded to a light brown. A building made up of scrap metal and drywall stood accompanied by a Catch-A-Ride system. The windows were lined with broken glass. The door was kicked in off it's hinges, and the walls were littered with symbols and profanity drawn with a sickening red colour. Kashmere's eyes trained on the Dr. Zed vending machine pressed up against the wall and his face lit up. He hurried over, stumbling over his feet from the lightheadedness set in his mind. Wiping his blooded hand on his pant leg, he pressed his other hand onto the vending machine and winced in pain as more blood rushed from the bullet wound. Kashmere pulled a dollar bill from under his cap and pressed the selection on the vending machines.

 _"_ _Welcome to_ _Doctor_ _Zed's portable clinic-"_ The vending machine's greeting was cut short by Kashmere's fingers pressing against the health vile selection.

"Thanks so much for putting this shit here, Zed! Definitely gonna suck you off now." Kashmere promised as he shoved the dollar bill into the slot. The vending machine sputtered for a moment before spitting the dollar back out, then repeating it's greeting, _"Welcome to_ _Doctor_ _Zed's portable clinic-"_

"Oh God, no." Kashmere breathed out with panic as he attempted to shove the dollar bill back into the slot, only to have the machine fail once more, "Please, Zed! Don't do this to me!" He begged, trying a different dollar bill only to have the same result. He let out a cry of frustration and sent the front of his boot slamming against the vending machine just as it was repeating its greeting. The impact made the machine shudder and the greeting repeat itself in a loop. Kashmere buried his face into the vending machine and let out a scream before pulling the pistol from his holster, "Shut up, Zed!" He demanded, shooting at the machine. The bullet ricocheted from the now quiet machine and sped between his legs, making him jump and scream out in surprise.

He slid down onto the ground, "Why won't you just take my money?" He asked the machine, crouching still on the ground whimpering with grief. Finally he rolled over onto his backside and leaned against the machine, "I hate you, Zed. Shitty-ass doctor..." He pulled the knife from the straps of his boot and gripped the handle with white knuckles, figuring he should attempt to push the bullet from his wound, "Stupid, old, wrinkled ballsack Dr. Zed..." He mumbled to himself as he brought his shaking hand nearer to the bullet wound. Wincing in pain, he pressed the knife to the side of the wound. His shaky hand causing more blood to ooze. He held the knife still for a moment, hesitating to shove it into the bullet hole. Finally his hand gave out and dropped to the ground. Instead, he cut the collar of his shirt down to the bottom and pulled it out from under his vest. Wincing in pain, he wrapped the shirt around his shoulder and torso, pulling on it to tighten it. A tired breath escaped his mouth and he let his head loll back onto the machine. Upon impact with his head, the machine repeated itself, _"_ _Welcome to Doctor Zed's portable clinic! What can I get for 'ya?"  
_ "Get me a noose." Kashmere answered.

Distant sounds of bandit technical engines made Kashmere raise his head. He squinted his eyes against the sun as he stared down the train track at three technicals driving side-by-side. Bandits hung off the sides, screaming and banging their buzzaxes against the technicals' blood-tainted shells. On the turret of the middle technical sat Krushnor; a large man with scrap metal strapped to his body. His arms were free from fabric, revealing the dark muscle tone underneath. Skulls and bones hung from the horns of the heavy, metal helmet that covered his face.

The technicals' engines revved, and their wheels angled themselves towards Kashmere who let out a nervous sigh, "Oh no..."

Kashmere's hand pressed against the dollar bill laying on the ground and he shoved it underneath the vending machine as the three technicals pulled up.

"Where's my money, skaglick?" Krushnor demanded, the technical lowering to the side with his mass as his spiked boots stepped to the ground. The small gang of bandits stayed behind on the technicals, hanging from the sides and watching with eagerness as Krushnor took a step towards Kashmere.

"Your money's on the train," Kashmere answered, still sitting against the vending machine, "You missed it."

"Bullshit! My scout saw you jump off the train! Yous got it!" Krushnor's stubby finger raised to Kashmere with accusation. His other hand had a tight grip on a shotgun decorated with spikes and bones.

Kashmere's hands raised in surrender, "No—no course not! You think I'm some cheating, disloyal bastard?"

"I's think it's pretty likely, given th' situation." Krushnor lowered his other hand and placed it on his shotgun.

Kashmere shook his head, "Oh goodness no! I would _never, ever_ do that. Especially not to you. I'm not stupid. You'd splatter my organs across Pandora with your shotgun."

Krushnor looked down at his shotgun, his shoulders bounced as a proud chuckle escaped him.

Kashmere continued, "Really, it's that guy, Tim, who's at fault here. See, _I_ was told that we were scouting for the train for you. We'd be down the tracks from you guys so we can tell you when the train's coming. Turns out, that bastard wanted to use me to get the loot for himself!" Kashmere made a surprised gasp for effect, " _Un—_ believable. Right?! I tried telling him that the loot belonged to you, an' that it was only fair _you_ get it because you've worked so hard to plan the raid. But this asshole, this downright _shitlord_ , threatened to kill me if I didn't help him! So I had to jump on the train with him an' act like I was helping. Loaderbots came after us an' they killed Tim an' I got away, but-" He gestured to the bullet wound in his shoulder, "-That happened. Point is, the loot's still on the train, an' the longer you stand here and interrogate me, the further away it's getting."

A deep groan of disbelief sounded from Krushnor. He leaned down closer to Kashmere, the bones on his helmets clinking against each other like wind chimes, "How's I suppose to believe you?" He asked.

Kashmere gestured to the dirt around him with both hands, "I don't have the loot. Think if I was really after it, I'd have it, right? Probably would've used Doctor Zed's shit machine by now, too."

Krushnor stood back straight and took a step back, "I don' believe ya'! Its in 'yer pockets, I bet!" He looked over his shoulder at the gang of bandits, "Two of 'yees go an' search 'em 'fer it!"

Two psychos hopped from the technicals, letting out cries of acknowledgement as they ran to Kashmere. Grabbing him by the arms, they hoisted him painfully to his feet. Kashmere let out a cry of pain as his injured arm was yanked, "Ow! Watch the arm, cumrags!" He snapped at them.

The bandits ignored him, patting their hands against his pants and vest and overturning his pockets.

"Nothing..." One repeated with a quiet voice. The other turned to Krushnor and repeated it with a shout. The two shoved Kashmere down to the ground before returning to the technicals.

"See? Told you. I don't have it." Kashmere shrugged as Krushnor turned back towards his technical, "Now you can just jingle your bone-chime ass outta here."

Krushnor stopped in his tracks and looked over his shoulder at Kashmere, "Quit wastin' my time, skaglick!" Before Kashmere could reply, Krushnor brought his shotgun forward and shot at Kashmere. The blast caught Kashmere offguard and he cried out, but the small bursts of metal deflected off his shield and fell down to the dirt. Krushnor lowered his shotgun and let out an agitated groan before climbing back into the technical's turret. The bandits let out excited cheers as the technicals sped off, coating Kashmere with the dust from their wheels. Kashmere wiped the sand from his mask lenses and watched them for a short moment before sliding down onto the ground on his back. He reached a tired hand under the vending machine and pulled the dollar bill from under it before sticking it into his hat, "...So glad no one ever checks my hat." He told himself, grinning with relief.

As the technicals disappeared, Kashmere's head turned to the entrance of the pitstop building and the idea of a health vile hidden inside crept into his mind. He struggled to his feet, and cradling his injured shoulder, made his way towards the entrance. Boots stepping over the blown-in door, Kashmere stepped inside the sand-blown building. The cash register sat on the floor near the front counter, the money tray pried open and empty. Blood splattered the empty shelves and the floor. A sudden foul stench of rot filled Kashmere's nose and he cringed with disgust. Hidden behind the counters was the corpse of what Kashmere assumed was the pitstop owner. His head hanged low in his lap. His clothes red, and the pool of blood underneath him dried to a reddish brown. Flies buzzed around his colour-drained face.

Kashmere stared down at the corpse in pity, "Damn...that sucks. Bet you coulda fixed the vending machine, too." In the pitstop owner's lap sat an ECHO Log. Kashmere's head cocked to one side as he stepped over to it, picking it up from the ground and wiping the blood from it on his pant leg. His finger hovered over the play button when he was interrupted by the sound of another technical from outside. His head jerked over his shoulder towards the window and he clipped the ECHO Log to his side before scrambling over the counter for cover. Sliding on his knees beside the window, he peered out towards the train track. A single, familiar technical pulled over near the Catch-A-Ride station. Kashmere felt a wave of relief as he saw Clement pulling himself from the technical's cockpit.

Kashmere hoisted himself over the windowframe of the glassless window, "Clement! My best-est friend, 'bout time you showed up!" He greeted with arms outstretched.

Clement's head raised towards Kashmere as he let himself drop from the technical onto the ground, "I lost you guys back at the canyon. Thanks for not letting me fall to my death, too, by the way. That was real nice of you."

"Thank you, I know." Kashmere let out an exhausted breath as he leaned against the technical, his hand reaching back up to his shoulder for support.

Clement's head lowered as his gaze shifted onto the blood-soaked shirt stretched and wrapped around Kashmere's shoulder, "So, what happened? Where's Tim?"

"Oh, Tim!" Kashmere stayed quiet for a moment, thinking up an excuse which he masked with exhausted, pained breaths, "Clement...it-it was a bloodbath..." Kashmere raised his head to face Clement, "The worst thing I've seen in the twenty-one years I've been alive!"

Clement stared back with his gun drooped to his side at the sheer suspense that overcome him, "Wh-what happened?"

Kashmere shook his head with distraught, "The l-loader bots, man! They came after us as soon as the alarm went! No regard to the Hyperion passengers...they murdered everyone! We didn't even get time to rob them!" Kashmere fell into Clement's shoulder, sobbing, "Tim begged them to let him go...screamed, even! But they just...his guts...all over the floor!"

"I'm gonna throw up—don't describe anymore." Clement ordered as he pushed Kashmere off of him.

Kashmere grasped the technical behind him for support, "I—I don't think I can ever look at trains the same way ever again. I'm scared of trains now, Clement! Absolutely terrified! When I hear 'choo choo' I shit my pants!"

"So then what? What happened to you?" Clement asked, gesturing at Kashmere's shoulder.

Kashmere glanced down at it, "Oh, I was just shot. It's fine." He answered with his usual nonchalant tone which brought an amusing, confused quietness from Clement, "You seem a bit too _upbeat_ for that to be true."

Kashmere stared back with his hand up in a shrug, "What'd you mean?-I _was_ shot. You can _clearly_ see that.-Are you dumb?"

Clement answered after a sigh of annoyance, "I mean your _story_ , Kash!"

"Maybe I might've over-exaggerated? A tiny bit?" Kashmere sat up on the hood of the technical, wincing as his injured arm was forced to pull his weight. He began again once the pain subdued, "But most of it was true," He put one hand against his chest and the other in the air in a pledge, "I swear on my mom's life. But point is, Tim's dead, I got shot, an' we didn't get the loot."

Clement nodded in understanding, "Yeah, that's pretty clear. I just don't like being lied to."

"You can trust me—I haven't lied to you since I've known you." Kashmere told him, softening his voice to a friendlier tone.

"So we don't have the loot and there's only two of us left now." Clement concluded.

Kashmere nodded.

"So what'd we do now? Give up and go home?"

Kashmere shook his head and inched a bit closer to Clement, "No, no. We can think of something later. But first-" Kashmere pulled the knife from the strap of his boot and held it out to Clement, "-Since I saved you back at the canyon, would you do me a real solid and get the bullet outta my arm? Kinda hard to concentrate with a piece of metal lodged in there."

"Hell no!" Clement took a step back with disgust, "I can't even listen to you talk about people dying, how you expect me to take a fricken bullet out of your arm?!"

Kashmere pulled the knife back and cocked his head at Clement, "What's wrong with you?"

"I have a weak stomach. That's why I wanted to _drive_ , Kash!" Clement snapped back at him.

"Fine. We're both pussies." Kashmere concluded, setting the knife back onto his boot. He winced, trying to stay off his left arm as he crawled into the technical's turret, "Then drive my ass to Salted Lacerations, please." He suggested as he got into a comfortable position on the turret, "I know the town's doctor, she's pretty cool."

"Salted Lacerations?" Clement repeated with hesitation, "Isn't that a bandit town?"

Kashmere sighed with satisfaction as he leaned against the cushioned turret chair. Then looked down at Clement, "Yeah. Real nice, welcoming people. Got some quirks, though."

Clement stared back at him with uncertainty. One hand rested against the bars of the cockpit as he hesitated to go in, "Why do you wanna go to Salted? We could get mugged, or shot."

"Yes, please. I'd love that." Kashmere blurted out.

Clement cocked his head to the side, "To get mugged? Or shot?"

Kashmere decided to continue, looking down at Clement from the turret with a grin under his mask, "Both. At the same time. That's my kink."

"What is wrong with you?" Clement demanded, "I just asked a simple question-"

"Toss in a little scat into the mix." Kashmere connected his index and thumb fingers into a circle and let out sounds of satisfaction.

Clement stayed quiet for a short moment before letting out a quiet, "...Ew."

Kashmere let out a laugh at Clement's reaction, "Alr _ii_ ght, I'll stop dicking around. Just drive to Salts and save me from bleeding out."

Clement hoisted himself into the driver's seat and started the engine, "If we get mugged, it's on you."


End file.
